


A Christmas Eve Proposal

by RagingBookDragon



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Beginnings, Christmas Eve, Flirting, Marriage Proposal, Taverns, They're lonely on Christmas Eve, that's the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27906211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RagingBookDragon/pseuds/RagingBookDragon
Summary: Spending Christmas Eve in the tavern wasn’t his ideal way to pass the night, but there were worse things he could be doing, he figured, and the thought of being surrounded by Charles and the others made his mood sour like curdled milk. He briefly remembered a happier time with his family when he was younger, but it was fleeting.It wasn’t necessarily busy, with most people being at home with their families for the evening, the only people there really were the usual drunkards. He was heading for a table in the corner when he caught sight of a young woman sitting alone at the bar, her head lowered on the counter. A tankard was in her hand and she kept tapping it with her pointer, telling him that she wasn’t passed out drunk. But what really intrigued him was her dress—a wedding gown, the hem of it dirty from the streets of Boston.
Relationships: Haytham Kenway & Reader, Haytham Kenway/Reader
Kudos: 16





	A Christmas Eve Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> DAY 5 OF THE CHRISTMAS FICS. WE DID ANOTHER ONE! ENJOY! -Thorne

Spending Christmas Eve in the tavern wasn’t his ideal way to pass the night, but there were worse things he could be doing, he figured, and the thought of being surrounded by Charles and the others made his mood sour like curdled milk. He briefly remembered a happier time with his family when he was younger, but it was fleeting.

It wasn’t necessarily busy, with most people being at home with their families for the evening, the only people there really were the usual drunkards. He was heading for a table in the corner when he caught sight of a young woman sitting alone at the bar, her head lowered on the counter. A tankard was in her hand and she kept tapping it with her pointer, telling him that she wasn’t passed out drunk. But what really intrigued him was her dress—a _wedding_ _gown_ , the hem of it dirty from the streets of Boston.

He narrowed his gaze and walked over, taking the seat beside her. Evidently, she’d felt his presence because she muttered, “Pal, I’m _not_ interested in anything you’ve got to offer.”

Snorting, he waved the bartender over. “I was going to offer you a shoulder and an ear.” He looked at the man. “An ale and another of what she had.”

The bartender walked off and she picked her head up, slightly glaring at him. She’d taken her veil off, having tossed the lace on the bar beside her, and he thought she looked like an angel. An incredibly angry, _possibly_ _drunk_ _angel_. He’d handled worse things in his life, but this felt like the new challenge.

“I don’t care what familial relation you have to Gabriel. I don’t care how far this will take you with his terrible, deceptive family.” She spat. “I’m _not_ going back to the church and I’m _not_ marrying him.” Her eyes narrowed and she looked into her tankard, hissing, “ _He can go fuck himself for all I care_.”

He arched a dark brow, steel eyes taking in the sight of her seething rage. Either she’d been stood up, _or_ she’d discovered a dark secret. He chose the latter—no man in his right mind would leave a woman as beautiful as her at the altar. “Sleep with someone you know?” he wondered.

She scoffed, rubbing her temples like it’d soothe the headache she had. “My fucking maid of honor _actually_. Got her pregnant _too_!” Her eyes met his. “I’ve lost two friends in one day.” A scowl appeared on her face and she took a swig of her drink, face scrunching up at the taste.

He peeked over her shoulder and looked down at its contents. “I take it you’re not accustomed to drinking ale?”

“Overpriced wine and champagne are more my natural area.” A sigh left her. “I wanted to see if I could drown myself in cheap alcohol.”

“Why not overpriced liquors?”

She scowled again. “Because then I’d have to go home and listen to _The Iron Lady_ patronize me that I should’ve done a _woman’s duty_ and married him anyway.” She slammed the tankard down, ignoring how it spilled on the counter and her hand. “ _Overbearing, stubborn, pug nosed, bitch_.”

He would have been appalled by her language, but the mention of the woman overrode it. “I’m sorry,” he started, “Did you say, _‘The Iron Lady’_? As in _Lady (L/N)_?”

Nodding her head, she propped her chin on her hand, lazily staring at him. “Mhm. _My mother_.”

His eyes went wide. “Oh my god.” He blurted out. “You’re (Y/N) (L/N)?”

(Y/N) sighed. “ _Fantastic_. A member of the elite is just what I needed to run into right now.” Her eyes drew up his figure and she reached over, flicking a finger under his cravat. “You’re _way_ _too_ _overdressed_ for our colonial asses. Which part of England are you from?”

He huffed a laugh. “Queen Anne’s Square.”

“London,” she mused, clearing her throat as she straightened up slightly. “What’s your name, _Londoner_?”

His jaw twitched at that, but he smiled politely, offering his hand. “Haytham Kenway.”

(Y/N) reached for his hand, but he took it and pressed a kiss to the back of it, tasting the ale on her skin. “A pleasure to meet you,” he murmured, watching her gaze narrow.

“We’ll see in time, Mister Kenway.”

“ _Haytham_.” He corrected, and when she arched a brow he added, “Since we’re both seeing each other at an _informal_ moment.”

Her eyes dropped to the front of her gown and she said, “Oh, I’d forgotten about that.” She chuckled. “It’s my fault you know, for trying to get married on Christmas Eve.” Waggling a finger, she quipped, “ _Father Christmas didn’t like me taking his night_.”

Haytham chuckled and she heaved a sigh. “Oh, I can’t even imagine going home like this,” (Y/N) gestured to herself. “I’m _never_ going to hear the end of it from my mother and _I know_ that Gabriel’s family is going to _harass_ _me_ _forever_.”

She dropped her head down onto the bar. “A good man. That’s _all_ I asked for. _Hell, he didn’t even have to be a good man, just faithful at least_.” Another sigh passed her lips and Haytham thought he saw a tear slide down her cheek. “I knew the Livingstons were trouble and yet I allowed Mother to make this marriage happen. _Should’ve run away when I had the chance_.”

“You’d leave it all behind? The money, the fame, the better life?” he enquired, genuinely curious behind her reasoning—no elite in their right mind would wish for a common life.

(Y/N) picked her head up and looked at him with such a clarity that it made his heart race. “What good is never wanting for a thing if you’re never happy? What good is living in a mansion, draped in pearls, and rolling on silk sheets, if you’re lonely? What good is life if you can’t find someone to love and be loved in return?”

She looked away. “Look at us, Haytham. We have everything we could ever want. Money, power, titles…and yet,” her eyes met his steel ones. “ _we’re both sitting in a bar on Christmas Eve because we’ve no one to spend it with_.”

Haytham gaped at her, pure unbridled shock running through him from such a declaration. He found himself again, and against his better judgment, he murmured, “Would you like to spend Christmas Eve with me?”

(Y/N)’s eyes went wide, jaw dropping at the forwardness of his request. “I—” she shut her mouth and dropped her gaze, trying to find the words. For a moment she didn’t respond, then she glanced at him. “We just met like _thirty minutes_ ago, and _you_ want to spend Christmas Eve _with me_?”

He nodded, flirting, “What better to do than spend a holiday with a _beautiful_ _woman_?”

She scoffed, but a grin crossed her lips. “Toss a better line my way and _I might_ consider it.”

He took her hand where it rested on the bar. “This is going to be forward, (Y/N)—”

“ _I’m not surprised_ ,” she countered, rolling her eyes when he glared at her interruption.

Haytham cleared his throat and said, “ _You’re_ looking for a husband, _I’m_ looking for a wife.”

She stared at him like he had three heads. “ _Did you just offer to spend Christmas Eve with me and then propose in the same minute_?”

“I did.”

“We _just_ met. _Why_ _in God’s name_ would _you_ even _want_ to marry _me_? You know _nothing_ about me?”

He smiled. “That’s the beauty of marriage.” Haytham pressed a kiss to her hand. “We get to learn about each other.”

(Y/N) sent a withering look his way, scrutinizing him like a test subject, then she asked, “And how do I know you won’t abuse me? Or commit adultery?”

Haytham’s face turned solemn. “I’ve _never_ laid my hands upon a woman in a dishonorable way. _I never have, never will_.” He took a sip of his ale. “As for the adultery…if I _were_ to sleep with another woman, _you’d never learn of the dalliance._ ”

She scoffed. “ _That’s not exactly a trust building offer, Haytham_.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps not, but _I am_ a man of my word. _You’d never learn of it._ ”

“ _How many women have punched you because of that_?”

“ _Only one_.” he quipped.

(Y/N) huffed a laugh then went silent, staring into his eyes. He searched hers, an amused expression on his face.

“How about this—we _start_ the courting process, and _we’ll see if we’re compatible_. If we’re _not_ , _we never see each other again_.” She offered.

“ _And if we are_?” Haytham countered.

She grinned. “ _Then I’ll be sleeping on the left side of the bed, and if you try and move me from my spot, I’ll bloody your lip_.”

Haytham barked a laugh and raised his tankard, watching her raise hers. “ _That’s fair enough_.”

(Y/N) winked. “ _To Christmas Eve and new beginnings_.”

“ _I’ll drink to that_ ,” he replied, tapping his drink to hers.


End file.
